Today’s a beautiful July 8th, and as I walk through my neighborhood, serenaded by the sounds of lawnmowers and edgers, I’m reminded of the small price we pay for the beauty we’re surrounded by. It’s a beauty I’m incredibly grateful for. This morning, I’ve been reflecting on my own journey, a path I’m not entirely sure whether to call religious or spiritual, as at times they’ve intertwined, and at others, they’ve diverged.
My Early Foundations
My story begins with adoption at age three. I have no idea what religious upbringing my birth parents might have had, but my adopted family was deeply religious. They, along with their parents and even grandparents, were devout members of the Church of Christ. They were the “true believer” type, convinced that their faith was a return to the church Jesus himself started, practicing exactly as they did in biblical times. This assured them they were worshiping precisely as Jesus intended.
I was raised to believe in a specific path to salvation: you must hear, believe, confess, repent, and be baptized for the remission of sins. Once a Christian, you maintained that status by being a faithful member, attending church diligently, and living a good life. There was a strong, albeit sometimes simple and sometimes complex, list of dos and don’ts. Dancing was definitely out—it could inflame sexual passions. Drinking was wrong, with some even claiming early Christians only consumed watered-down grape juice. Drunkenness was an extreme evil. Sex was reserved solely for marriage between a man and a woman, and outside of that, it was sinful. Divorce was wrong, unless one partner committed adultery. Otherwise, you were married for life, regardless of the other person’s behavior.
These teachings made a profound impression on me, and in many ways, I’m thankful for my upbringing in a conservative evangelical family. We attended church Sunday mornings and evenings, and participated in gospel revivals that lasted one or two weeks. Wednesday evenings were for classes, and there were robust training programs for young men. In my church, you truly became a man when you became a Christian, regardless of your legal age.
This deeply ingrained framework kept me out of a lot of trouble. I avoided drinking and drugs, common in the 60s and 70s, and steered clear of casual relationships. I didn’t even date until my junior year of high school. My first serious relationship lasted two years, and we remained chaste. Even in college, surrounded by new temptations, I held to my convictions, partly due to my own resolve and partly because I dated women who shared similar upbringings. I attended a Christian college, and while I occasionally noticed inconsistencies, there was always a “smart person” to provide a ready, biblically-based explanation.
The Stirring of Something More
In my senior year of college, I met and fell in love with the woman who would become my wife. We married after dating for about a year and a half. As I continued my education and even began teaching at a Christian college, I started to question if there was more to faith than just intellectual teachings. My religion was very head-heavy, focused on what to believe, with less emphasis on the heart. I felt this was a failing, though I couldn’t quite articulate it then.
Some of my friends explored Pentecostalism, with its emphasis on the gifts of the Holy Spirit and speaking in tongues. I looked into it, but as one friend dryly observed, he saw “a lot more tongue speaking and a lot less dead raising,” which was enough to convince him these biblical gifts weren’t active today. While a part of me wished they were, another part remained skeptical. I continued in the Church of Christ faith, even while a small metaphysical bent had always tugged at me.
I’d been fascinated by things like ESP and books on developing spiritual imagination. My mother cautioned me against it, suggesting most psychics were fakes, but I remained captivated. I even tried astral projection and mind-reading. Occasionally, I’d have dreams that came true or seemed to intuit people’s thoughts and secrets, though never in a way I’d call an amazing gift—it just happened when it happened.
These two threads, my strong religious upbringing and a budding metaphysical interest, coexisted. I think my desire to develop an “inner voice” stemmed from hearing people say, “The Lord spoke to me,” which sounded strikingly similar to the psychic readings I’d heard about, where people claimed to receive messages. I wanted to experience that for myself.
A Different Kind of Conversation
Around my second year of marriage, perhaps 1980, I started a little game: I’d ask myself a question, then try to answer it. At first, the answers were predictable, echoing my own thoughts. But soon, it felt like a genuine conversation, taking on a life of its own. I’ve continued this practice throughout my life, always feeling I receive a “better” answer than I would have on my own. I’ve come to call this contemplation, and some might describe it as clairaudience, hearing things in your head. It’s not about predicting horse races or stock picks; it’s an extension of what I know, pushing just beyond, and always seeming a bit wiser. I framed these conversations within my religious understanding, believing I was communing with the Holy Spirit.
Later, I encountered people who influenced me to read metaphysical books, some from other religions like Hinduism, Zen, and Buddhism. I delved into hundreds of books on psychic development, spiritual masters, and gurus. The “guru thing” always felt dangerous to me, requiring faith in a human being and treating their words as divine. Yet, I now see it’s perhaps no worse than blindly following the preachers of my youth, who were often biased, judgmental, and used the Bible to justify harm and instill guilt and shame that still affect me.
Behind the Curtain of Christian Higher Education
My 40-plus year career as a college professor in Christian higher education gave me an up-close and personal view of the religious world, through its good, bad, and ugly. I’ve seen that the men and women who teach Bible courses and lead these institutions are just as fallible as anyone else. They can lie and cheat with the best of them, often enforcing codes they themselves don’t follow. This was a significant disappointment, but I’m glad I saw behind the “curtain of Oz” to realize they were just people, often as brainwashed as those they taught, and perhaps more so, given the significant payoffs of leadership. My slightly less “locked-in” position has given me a different perspective.
New Paths and Evolving Beliefs
For several years, I explored Eckankar, led by Harold Klemp, who is considered the “Mahanta,” the highest living soul on Earth. While I found his viewpoints open-minded and appealing, I eventually realized it was another guru trap—you had to believe in him as “the way and the truth.” I left when I discovered much of their teachings were plagiarized. While a friend argued that all spiritual ideas are interconnected and there’s no true plagiarism, it felt like a breach of intellectual and spiritual integrity.
I also spent about two years studying with the Self-Realization Fellowship, founded by Paramahansa Yogananda, which also had spiritual guides to follow. While some swear by their experiences with these guides, I can’t say I’ve had similar vivid encounters. Nevertheless, these explorations opened my mind to the vast diversity of viewpoints in the world, dismantling the belief that my childhood faith was the only path to heaven.
I embraced the concept of reincarnation, or what I prefer to call a continuous life. I believe we are immortal beings, constantly dipping in and out of different phases of experience, with Earth being one of them, then moving on in a continuous, hopefully progressive, line. This is a radical departure from the “one and done” Christian teaching of eternal damnation if you didn’t get it right.
My extensive reading of world religions and metaphysical texts, alongside my religious upbringing, led me to conclude that much of what I was taught as a Christian is merely a conceptual framework, not necessarily based on tangible facts. I’ve come to see the Bible as a collection of writings spanning centuries, constantly reinterpreted to fit our current times, often without regard for its original context.
Where I Stand Today
After serving as a dean for 12 years at Oklahoma Christian University, I was unceremoniously dismissed—a blessing in disguise, as it allowed me to return to teaching with fewer responsibilities and more time. I joined a local group studying spiritual and metaphysical teachings, deepening my connection with angelic spirits and guides. I’ve had profound experiences, including a séance with a medium who gave evidential readings, which left me impressed by the “extra-dimensional” insights I couldn’t explain.
Today, I believe in the immortality of the soul, though I acknowledge it’s not something I can scientifically “prove,” despite the compelling similarities in near-death experiences. I continue to rely on that inner voice, that contemplation that began in 1980. I meditate, listen for answers, and believe in spiritual beings beyond myself.
I’ve developed some key ideas that guide my path:
- Spiritual Sovereignty: You are responsible for developing your own spiritual life, borrowing from whatever resonates with you, without needing to explain it or fit into someone else’s box. Go to church if you enjoy it, cherish the friendships, but avoid fanaticism or getting caught up in dogma. Don’t let yourself be co-opted by any single ideology. If something resonates with you, that’s enough to move forward, but always be willing to set it aside if a better explanation comes along. I call this shelving—not rejecting, just acknowledging it doesn’t make sense right now. For instance, I can’t reconcile eternal hell for finite earthly actions, nor does eternal heaven make sense to me; I believe we are in constant motion.
- The God Continuum: I believe in a continuum of beings, greater and lesser than ourselves, in their spiritual development, intellectual understanding, and emotional intelligence. We all fall somewhere on this continuum. Our goal in our many lifetimes is to move our “address” further along, towards higher ranges of this continuum. As humankind, it’s a slow but continuous process of improvement.
I believe in the continuance of the human soul and an unending life that dips into various levels of experience. This provides great comfort. As my friend Don Drew once said, if there is no continuance, then darkness isn’t so bad.
I also believe we are in a simulation, here to learn lessons. We can’t defeat the simulation, nor are we truly in control of it. Higher beings determine its parameters and humanity’s future lessons, whether we move into a golden age or one of disappointment.
I believe in angel spirits and guides, not as holy beings to worship, but as deserving of respect for their accomplishments. They guide us, just as we get to guide others. I see it as a healing and compassionate system running the simulation. When you witness injustices, it’s okay to stand up for what’s right—that’s part of your lesson. Don’t be too disappointed if you can’t change everything; your role is to transcend, not to be overwhelmed. Even when a golden age comes, it’s brought about by the Masters of the simulation, not solely by our own efforts.
Finally, I believe everyone has signed up for their roles in this simulation, including those who appear to be “evil” or “bloodthirsty.” Their actions, however horrifying, are assigned roles meant to challenge us. No one is ever truly “killed”; they are simply taken out of the simulation. This doesn’t mean we don’t strive to live our best lives and move along the God continuum. In the eternal realms, we learn ideals, but here, we gain practical experience by interacting with those who haven’t advanced, learning how to help them or make things worse. This takes theoretical knowledge into the realm of experience.
I’ve come a long way from the days of “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.” My ideas about reality have completely shifted. My box has been opened, and it’s been an incredibly interesting journey. Was it religious? Was it spiritual? Perhaps a bit of both. There’s always more to say, but I think this is enough for today.
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